The Sicilian's Proposition (16 page)

She laid on the bed and toyed with ringing Dante. But would that be fair? She might put him in an awkward predicament if Carla was around. No, that wasn’t a good thing to do. Anything she wanted to know about Dante, Giovanni could tell her.

The article about him had gone to press, and she’d managed to get a couple of copies of the magazine from the local newsagent. She spread one open on the bed, surprised that Polly had kept her original title of
Dante Alphonso: Dream Maker!
It began with the profile of the man and his life and all he’d accomplished for The Children’s Hope and Dream Foundation, and then all about the family vineyard, his business in London, and his current affairs. Whatever she might think of Jackson Byrne, she had to admit he’d taken some terrific photographs. She trailed her fingers over the page outlining Dante’s jawline, imagining the man behind the smile. She was well-pleased with this.

There was no muck thrown at him in this article. It was an honest interpretation of the man, his life, and his work.

Tomorrow she would mail the copies to him. She hoped he’d be as thrilled with it as she was.

***

Dante was finally allowed to sit in a chair. At least it gave him some sense of normality. He’d requested the nurse bring his laptop for his work, but she refused, saying it was,
doctor’s orders
. He couldn’t blame her. He’d put her in a difficult position making her take him out yesterday, so for now he would obey.

The house echoed without Carla’s presence, but at least she was gone for good. Out of his life forever. Well if he couldn’t work, at least he could listen to some music. He switched on his iPod and played some tracks at random. It was quite relaxing.

Most were swing tracks; they always took him back to his childhood. Mamma and Papa loved music, the records were often played at home. His father would take Dante’s mother in his arms, and they’d dance around the courtyard. The familiar music transported him back to another time and place.

Instead of remembering his mother and father dancing close together, he was picturing himself with a woman, and it wasn’t Carla. It was Joanne!

He was looking down at her shiny eyes, feeling her warmth in his arms, inhaling her sweet perfume. He remembered now how special that moment had been, and how he longed to kiss her but broke away at the last moment. They were on the balcony of his hotel suite just as she described. Images flashed through his mind. The boat, she’d been going under the water, and he rescued her. She was so vulnerable and told him about her father drowning. No wonder she got so distressed and he needed to soothe her. They moored the boat at Lipari and then shared a wonderful meal together, followed by the sensational lovemaking at the hotel afterward, and then he told her he loved her.

Oh, what must she think of him? She must have been so hurt because he thought she was just another journalist. And what about him moving Carla into the villa?

Now Joanne had left Sicily. Maybe she never wanted to see him again.

It was her he loved and he had to find her as soon as possible.

Dante stood gazing out of the hospital window.

"I'm afraid you can't travel just yet,
Signor
Alphonso. You’re not well enough, and you might jeopardize your recovery…"

Dante turned to look at the doctor. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. "But I’m up and about now, I can walk. I can do everything I did before the accident. How about if my nurse accompanies me to England?"

The doctor shook his head. "Please sit down." Dante did as requested and looked into the old doctor's rheumy eyes as they expressed concern. The doctor steepled his fingers. "I've been a brain specialist for many years. If you take that trip right now, it could set back the progress you’ve made.”

Disappointment seeped inside him, but he respected the doctor enough to realize he was right. “I see.”

“Some people report that flying following a head injury can cause symptoms such as painful headaches, fatigue, and nausea. These can occur due to changes in pressure and less oxygen in circulation in the aircraft. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know as soon as you’re fit for travel. The good news is, you are making excellent progress and your memory is returning.”

Dante nodded. The doctor was right of course, he was trying to run before he could walk. Besides, he needed to check Angelina and the children were okay before he went anywhere. Memories of her distress at discovering her husband had been killed were starting to emerge along with the feelings of disgust he had for the man and his lifestyle.

His chauffeur was waiting outside when he left the hospital. He asked Bruno to drive to Angelina’s home, feeling a pang of guilt for not being around to help with the funeral plans as promised, but he could make it up to her now.

When he arrived at the house, she was pleased to see him, though he could tell by the dark rings beneath her eyes and pale skin, she hadn’t slept well. The children had gone to school.

She brought him a cup of espresso and sat opposite him in the neat, spacious villa Ponti had funded with the profits of his racketeering. The marbled columns and expensive ornaments and artwork were a testament to the blood money he siphoned from his victims. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“How are you feeling?” she asked. Her eyes now misted with unshed tears. She inhaled deeply to hold them back.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” He flashed a smile.

She brushed back a lock of her hair behind her ear and then stirred her coffee. “I’m fine. Honestly, Dante. I should have taken your advice years ago. Then I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

“Maybe not, but then you wouldn’t have your three beautiful children.”

“I suppose.”

He hated seeing her like this, so downcast and defeated. “What are you going to do now?”

She exhaled. “Well, Ponti’s associates have offered to help me out.”

“No way. Not while I have any breath in my body, Angelina. They might help you for life as part of
the family,
but it’s not what I want for my sister and her children. I will help you.”

She bit her lip and then nodded. “I might get myself a job. I’ve been a kept woman for too long.”

Dante smiled. “Maybe. Now it is time to take charge of your life. Perhaps you would consider working for the Sicilian branch of the foundation?”

Her eyes lit up. “Yes, I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

It was a way for her to give back, and now that Ponti was out of her life, it was time to reclaim it, but first she needed time to grieve her loss.

***

Joanne slipped both glossy magazines into a large buff-colored envelope and took it to the post office. She had deliberated whether to include a letter or not but decided against it in case Carla should get the wrong idea. So instead she’d written a simple note:

Here’s the printed article, Dante. I think you’ll find it paints you in a good light. Wishing you a speedy recovery. J.

There was nothing to dislike about that, and as she handed the package over to the counter clerk, she was suffused with sadness that without a miracle, this would be her last ever contact with the man.

Now Sicily was a distant dream. She’d kept in touch with Giovanni, who had assured her Dante was making good progress, but she hadn’t poked her nose into his relationship with Carla, and Giovanni hadn’t offered any information to her, either.

She spent the next few days keeping busy with work and enrolled in a fitness class at the local leisure center, which she attended most evenings after work. By the time she got home afterward and had something to eat, there was little time to think of anything else.

One morning she awoke to a ping from her mobile phone by the side of the bed. Her blurry eyes tried to focus on the phone’s screen. She blinked several times before reading:

Thanks for the magazines, Joanne. You did a great job. It was well-written and I am so pleased! J

Dante. She hugged herself, happy she had pleased him. For a second she hesitated before firing off a text. She visualized Carla lying next to him in bed. What would she think? Would it cause problems between them? But then again, she was only responding to a simple text about her article. She replied:

Glad it meets with your approval. I trust you are feeling better?

She waited several minutes, her eyes constantly drawn to the mobile phone on her bedside table, but felt a little deflated when no reply came. She got out of bed ready to shower and dress for the day ahead.

Why did she feel so disappointed he hadn’t replied?

Because you love him, that’s why
…a little voice in her head reminded her. Her eyes pricked with tears, and she swallowed a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. Why did things have to be like this? And why, when she found someone she cared for and trusted, did she lose him again by a fluke of fate?

***

“Dante, you’re all smiles today.” Giovanni patted his brother’s back as he came to visit him at the villa.

Dante grinned. “Yes and I have every right to be. The doctor has told me it’s now safe for me to travel. I’m going to England soon.”

“That’s really good news, but will you see Joanne when you are over there?”

“Of course, she’s the main reason I’m going. I intend winning her back.”

“I’m pleased for you, brother. Follow your heart, she’s a good woman.”

“I know and I can only try to win her back. The rest is up to her.”

The truth was he wasn’t sure how she would receive the news he remembered her, recollected his love and wished to express it once more. Maybe she already moved on and was now with someone else? Or maybe she just wouldn’t be interested anymore.

It was a chance he had to take.

***

“Earth calling Joanne!” Joanne looked up from her desk into the shining eyes of her editor. “You’ve been in a trance all morning.”

Joanne shifted about in her chair and bit her lip, deliberating whether to tell Polly about the text message, that Dante had made contact with her at last. But maybe she’d laugh. “Sorry. I need to concentrate, don’t I?”

“Come on, Joanne, this is me you’re talking to. What’s going on?”

“I received a text from Dante this morning, thanking me for the article.”

“And?”

Joanne shrugged. “And nothing. I texted him back, but no reply.”

“Well I suppose at least he’s made contact with you,” Polly said, her voice softening.

Joanne frowned. “What am I thinking of, though? I’m clutching at straws, aren’t I? Hanging on to the least little thread of hope. It’s crazy.”

Polly smiled. “No it’s not. Not at all. You had—have—deep feelings for the man.”

Joanne shrugged. “Well I need to put that all behind me and banish any illusions I might have as he’s with Carla now.”

Polly nodded. “You’re probably wise to do that. I’ll fetch you a coffee.”

When Polly had departed, Joanne extracted her mobile phone from the desk drawer and deleted Dante’s message. It was no use thinking about what you couldn’t have.

***

Joanne tried to look ahead to the future, but a future without Dante felt so bleak. The light had gone out of her life.

She made herself breakfast, and as she sat down to eat, her phone rang. It was Polly, her voice taking on a high-pitched, excited quality. “You’re never going to believe this, Joanne, but this morning I received two tickets for a Christmas Ball, and you and I are going.”

Polly often got freebies from grateful clients, but it was rare for her to take Joanne. “But how? Where?”

“It’s on behalf of The Children’s Hope and Dream Foundation. One is for you, the other for me. It’s taking place at Dante’s hotel, The Richmond. It’s a black tie and ball gown event. So get your glad rags on.”

Joanne’s heart hammered at the mere mention of his name. Was he going to be there? Would Carla be there too?

Her mouth dry, she stood in disbelief.

“Well, say something,” Polly persisted.

She fought to find the words. “I don’t know what to say. Really, this has taken me by surprise.” Her legs were boneless; she needed to sit down to compose herself. What would she wear for that kind of event? She didn’t own a ball gown. She often wore a black cocktail dress to most Christmas events.

“Well get your party frock on because Cinders is off to the ball,” Polly joked. “I’ll give you all the details when I see you later at the office.”

Joanne replaced the receiver, her hand trembling. How could something like this have such a tremendous affect on her? She exhaled at the thought she might see him again.

She needed to get herself something new, something stylish, something swish. There was no way Carla was going to outshine her should she attend. Maybe she couldn’t have Dante, but she could look her best. She’d have her hair done too, maybe some highlights and a manicure.

She hadn’t even started Christmas shopping yet. There were gifts needed for her mother, Polly, and Dante’s family. Giovanni had been so kind to her.

Her mind was a whirl of thoughts and emotions.

Christmas would soon be here, and she didn’t feel the least bit prepared for it. How she wished she had a fairy godmother.

***

Dante gazed out of the plane’s window, remembering the last time he’d flown. It seemed a long way off. He remembered how excited Joanne had been beside him and how she fell in love with Sicily, their first intimate encounter at the vineyard, and how she took his breath away with her beauty.

Soon he would see her again, but would she want to see him? That was the question.